Between One And Perdition
by Larathia
Summary: A darker version of FF8 close to canon but not quite. Will be uploading pieces in random order, but chaptering will be chronological. SquallZell UST. NEW: Dreams and Promises
1. Home Free

Some cadets said you were at your most alive when you were either running for, or fighting for, your life. Certainly the senses were ratcheted to their most intense levels. Colors and sounds and smells and sensations were etched into the mind in ways that would emerge in nightmares that would last for the rest of your life.

Of course, that probably wasn't hard if the rest of your life could be measured in _seconds_, was Squall's sour opinion even as he used his gunblade as a pole to launch himself in a running vault jump over some idiotic Dolletian noble's idea of a decorative crenellation. Slender hook lines clawed into it right after he cleared it and plastered himself flat against the opposite wall, producing a wide-eyed Zell and Selphie in short order.

"Did - was that - what it _looked_ like?" was Zell's panted, incredulous question. It was hard to tell if he thought it was the most terrifying or most flat-out amazingly cool thing he'd ever seen.

"Giant...spider..." nodded Selphie, catching her breath. "What. The. _Hell_."

Sweet Hyne, the thing was huge. Huge, armored better than the entire Dolletian army and probably bigger than the collected corpses of it. And self repairing. And "It's catching up," Squall panted. "Have to keep moving."

"Charge it," Zell offered, pushing himself upright. "Buy ourselves more running time."

Squall spared only a glance at Selphie - just enough to understand she'd go along with any plan offered at this point, and reserve all judgment about its relative sanity. "Keep us alive," he advised her, and gave Zell a small nod. He grinned, wide and wild-eyed. (But then, he was one of those who thought the edge of the fight was the place where living was done best.) For Squall it wasn't exhiliration. He would never admit it aloud, barely admitted it to himself, but as Zell leapt from the crenellation onto the upper hull of the steel spider-thing and started _pounding_...

What he felt was _terror_.

Terror that pushed him over that edge after Zell, froze his face into a stony, expressionless mask. Terror that burned the smell of hot wires and oil and grease into his memory. Terror that sharpened every line and miniature crevasse of the construct as if lit by a hundred suns five inches away. Terror that coiled muscles tighter than any spring or junction ever could, terror that drove his blade to cleave steel and wire together. Drew hard on Quezacotl's junction to make his movements blurringly fast, fire debilitating surges of electricity into the creature, overloading circuitry and melting wires.

Terror that this time, that idiot really _might_ get himself killed.

Squall was no raw greenhorn to battle, not by _now_, and neither was Zell. Terror - especially this terror - was an old companion, understood and used as he used any other resource at his disposal. Zell laughed a free, delighted laugh as his punches locked metal joints and twisted the metal limbs, limiting the spider's movements. A spray of bullets from one of the gun-turrets peppered them both, but had little time to do more than throw them some distance before the cold tingle of Selphie's spells closed and mended the wounds. The pain only served to heighten the adrenaline rush, the smear of blood along Zell's shirt driving him more than the unnoticed holes in his own shirt and jacket.

Their movements were so in tune as to seem almost choreographed. The moment blade and fist had done enough damage to shut the spiderthing down, even temporarily, Squall and Zell turned on their heels and _fled_ for the shore, Selphie catching up not half a moment later.

"Race ya!" was Zell's laughing call, as if any of them could go faster than they were - leaping over low walls, running over the hoods and roofs of cars as if they were a gang of freerunners out for exercise. There was no _time_ to waste in going around, and Squall's stomach churned as he heard the _thonk, thonk, Thonk, Thonk_ of the spiderthing behind them, already repaired and in pursuit. Run. Just run. When Selphie tripped on a loose stone and stumbled, both Squall and Zell automatically caught an arm as she flailed briefly in front of them, dragging her until her feet got under her again. No time to stop. Not for anything. The city went by in a blur, down, down...

The sight of the transport was nothing to the sight of Quistis in a gun turret, solving the unsolvable problem with a classic approach: more bullets, and a bigger gun. The three of them half-staggered onto the craft, almost slamming into the far interior wall because slowing down was too much effort. The three landed in a tangled pile as the doors closed behind them, listening to the scraping of the beach fall away from the hull as the engines roared. Safe...safely away.

Even that relief didn't blind Squall to the reality of Zell collapsed against him, relaxed and laughing with the adrenaline rush and relief at their escape. Perhaps that was why Zell -grinning, laughing, flushed with the exertion - enveloped him in a bear hug before rolling away. "Oh, man. That was a _run_. Let's not do that again anytime soon, huh?"

As hyped as Squall was on the adrenaline and fading fear, he knew that this memory would last a long while yet. Probably destined to resurface in the middle of the night at random intervals for the indefinite future; he would have declared war on his subconscious long ago if he could have. Selphie contented herself with a pat on his shoulder as she found a more comfortable bench to collapse on, leaving Squall the last to get to his feet. The sound of Quistis' heels spurred him to move - the last thing he wanted right now, with his voice and body shaking with the comedown, was an extended debriefing on why his captain hadn't been with them. He climbed up on the deck instead, where the wind and sea spray were calming, cooling. Cleansing.

It was quiet up here, relatively speaking. The sea, the wind, the engines - just background sounds, steady sounds. They'd gotten through the mission even with Seifer running off and giant robots chasing them. Was it enough? Would they finally have the scores needed to make the grade? SeeDs had rooms to themselves. There would be no more of Zell's breed of personal antics. No more time to study Zell when he wasn't talking, fighting, exercising.

Maybe...maybe it was for the best, really. In all their years sharing a room there had never been the slightest sign that Zell held anything but friendship for him. A strong friendship, a class of loyalty and trust all its own...but no more than friendship, when it came down to it. SeeDs did not have time to dwell on what was not, Squall was sure. Just time to dwell on what was.

"Thought you'd be up here," came Zell's voice behind him; he didn't turn. "I asked myself, 'where's the most lonely, miserable place with a view on this boat?' And the answer just, you know, came to me."

Now was really not the time. But Zell never seemed to worry about that. Squall shrugged, declining comment. There wasn't much to say.

Zell put an arm around Squall's shoulders, enveloping him in a brief comradely hug. "What's got you moody?" he asked. "Thinking we didn't make it, or that we did?"

"Does it matter?" evaded Squall, keeping his face and voice expressionless.

"We made it," Zell nodded firmly. "There's like, no damn way we _couldn't_. We did the job even with Seifer flaking out. But you know, I don't care? I can try again next year. I'm just full of happy warm glow knowing Seifer_ didn't_. That no matter what we did or didn't fuck up, I never have to deal with _that_ bastard again. He can't take the test again, he _definitely_ couldn't have passed. That means he's washed out. Right out of Garden. I mean life can _only_ be better when things like that happen. Whether I made it or not is just kind of a bonus, right?"

Squall blinked. There was a valid point in there. Absently, his hand came up to touch the healing scar that Seifer had left him with. "Right," he agreed quietly, his eyes on the waters ahead.

Zell moved to stand next to him. Right next to him, his arm against Squall's, almost touching at the hip. _But the bow is narrow,_ Squall reminded himself. _And he's got no sense of boundaries._ "Look...Squall..." he asked hesitantly. "I mean...I don't want to be rude or anything. I know I haven't been the easiest guy to live with. Not that you're a picnic yourself, mind, but ...well. You know."

_No, I don't_. Squall slanted a look at him, narrow-eyed. "What are you talking about?"

Zell grinned, but it was if anything more than a touch sheepish. "Well. SeeDs get their own rooms, right? And I know you're probably looking forward to that. Space of your own and not having to deal with my stuff."

Squall just blinked, waiting. He was pretty sure he couldn't have said anything even had he had something _to_ say. Had he gotten it wrong? Did the two of them want the same thing, after all? Frozen in place, Squall's mind raced over the past several weeks. Searching quickly for signs, any signs, that he might have misread. It would be so...dramatic, so stupid, to be right next to the object of his affections for so long and _not_ know it was returned....

"I just...we're still gonna be friends, right?" asked Zell hesitantly. "It wasn't all just so we wouldn't kill each other sharing a room, was it?"

Slowly, Squall reached forward with gloved hands and gripped the railing. The cloth hid the fact that he was doing so tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. Long practice at shutting himself away kept any trace of emotion from his face, from his voice. All normal. All commonplace. It was his own damn fault. He _had_ known Zell most of his life. Wild hopes raised and dashed - that was no one's fault but his own, the pain no one's fault but his own. Zell was Zell. He loved the man for who he was. And if 'who he was' was occasionally the most blind human being on the face of the planet, well, that was just part of the package and any inability to deal with it was Squall's own fault.

"...Squall?" asked Zell, worriedly. "Um. Maybe I better -"

Squall's hand shot out to grab Zell's arm and hold it; Zell's blond eyebrows reached for his hairline. It was everything Squall could do, to stop himself pulling Zell into a hug that would require explanations and probably result in several days of jokes from a man who couldn't understand their real meaning. So he moved his hands quickly, holding either side of Zell's face firmly. Making him look Squall in the eyes.

"I. Am. Always. Your. Friend," said Squall firmly, looking Zell squarely back into blue eyes. _I am a lot more than that if you'd just open your eyes._ But he couldn't force that. He couldn't make Zell be someone else. Even as Zell blushed, embarrassed at apparently offending him, he let Zell go and turned back to his view of the sea. There was so much more to say, but even Squall's self control had limits. And right now far too much of him wanted to scream. Or kiss Zell so hard, so thoroughly, that even he could be left in no doubt of the nature of Squall's feelings. The risk was too high; he would rather have Zell's friendship, blind and occasionally hurtful as it was, over nothing at all.

"Sorry," Zell mumbled. "I knew that. Honest."

_No. No, you don't. _"Get some rest," said Squall quietly. "We've still got debriefing."


	2. On Escape

The power flickered in the cell, and then went out. It was like the lifting of fog - the magic-negation field was off.

Squall, battered and chained, reached back into his mind and summoned. Quezacotl, come. Destroy. The target was himself, his chains. And, flowing as soon as the thought was formed, the lightning bird came. Junctioned for it, the powerful strikes of lightning were a healing surge of energy that shattered chains and dropped him, gasping, to the floor.

Time. There wasn't any. The summoning should have brought guards, but Squall heard nothing outside their door. Almost nothing. Selphie and Quistis were arguing in the next cell about whether escape was possible: "Look, just freeze the metal and it'll break, we can run for it -" "and get shot in short order. wait and let me see what's out there before you get us killed."

Spells, yes. Ice was quieter, but there wasn't - couldn't be - much time. Better to die in escape than wait for him to return, but better still to get away clean. Keys. The bastard had left them - right in Zell's reach, knowing he couldn't reach that far. "Wait," he snapped through his door, hoping the girls heard him because he damn sure wasn't going to shout, and half-stumbled for the keys. The sound made Zell flinch, and Squall had no time for reassurance. He grabbed the keys and tried them on his door, one by one until the lock clicked open. Thank Hyne he wasn't toying with us - she's making him stupid -

And lethal. He closed his mind on that avenue of thought before he got sick. There was no time. He ran as best he could to the other cell. "Keys. Get her loose, Quistis." She'd done what he had, he knew - junctioned so that summoning on the self would heal. She'd taken Shiva - notrightnow - and when he got the cell open Selphie was free and Quistis, like himself, sported chains dangling from her wrists and ankles - hers cleanly frozen, and his half melted slag.

"How long before they notice us?" Quistis asked as they rushed out.

"Don't know," said Squall, running back to the cell. "We'll go as far as we can."

"Weapons?" asked Selphie hopefully, following. "Zell's the only - oh my god -"

Squall's eyes were almost burning as he carefully picked Zell up. "Not today, he won't be," he growled. "If we find them, great. If not, take what you can from anyone in our way. Make for the roof."

Selphie looked puzzled in the split second it took for Quistis to nod and grab her hand, yanking her into a run. Squall, slower, ran behind. He'd wondered if they might fail. Galbadia didn't like to advertise its prisons - most of the structures were deep underground to hide their size. The way out had to be up. The junctions were a gamble; as long as the power stayed off, they were a tremendous advantage. If the field was restored at any time, it would mean all of them would slip into a half-somnolent, passive state that wouldn't be able to resist recapture. They had to get as far as possible, as fast as possible. Squall's bare feet did not skid on the metal floor grating, but he heard the steps of booted guards rising, coming -

Quistis dropped back alongside him. "You've got to leave him," she said as loudly as she dared. "We've got to be -"

"Everyone or no one," snapped Squall, and handed Zell to her. Then started running again. "Carry him for now. When you're tired, hand him to Selphie. When she's tired, back to me. All of us are getting out."

Her lips tightened but she obeyed, running as well as she could. To refuse the order she'd have had to drop Zell to the floor herself, and as hard as she was she couldn't do that.

Not with the sight of him fresh in her mind. Zell's hands and arms were broken - flattened - up to the elbows, hanging limply. And that was only the start of -don't think about it Squall leaped on a guard, landing squarely on the back of the man's neck, and a mere second to take the man's gun. He ran ahead as Quistis, tired, passed Zell to Selphie. Silence, and speed - his head snapped upward as he heard gunshots from above. And an ally? "We've got to have weapons before we get up there." And guards behind them.

Quistis' eyes were bright, almost glowing, and Squall looked away quickly. Evidently she was near her limit; enraged, Quistis had too many magical tricks up her sleeves.

"Can't..." panted Selphie as they rounded a curve and neared a stairway. "Squall...not up stairs...."

"Mine," said Squall, passing her his purloined weapon and lifting Zell back into his arms. No time for a cure. No time to set the bones and he wasn't about to do a botch job on that. "Cover me," he ordered, and Selphie, gasping still, raised her gun and ran up the stairs. Not firing - they couldn't afford to waste any bullets or draw attention to their location with the sound. Their feet hurt from running bare on the grating, but it was an advantage in disguise - they made no noise on the metal floors, but the boots of the guards rang and echoed down the metal corridors.

Selphie was good; one shot, and when Quistis ran up the stairs Selphie tossed her a gun. Now two were armed. Squall focused away from the weight of Zell in his arms, the flinches and tiny sounds at any jarring movement - and there were many. Part of him filed it all away for later nightmares, but right now there was no time.

"Well say hello to the rescue patrol!" yelled a happy voice, and Squall nearly shouted for silence before he bit his tongue. Irvine! and Rinoa - and not wearing chains or prisoner's clothes, either.

"Not so loud!" he hissed, and quickly handed Zell to Rinoa. "Drop him and you'll regret it." Turning to Irvine, dragging everyone back into the run, he said, "Two guns and Zell's out but we've got the junctions. Tell me whatever you did to the power supply will last."

"At least an hour," Irvine nodded. "Tossed a grenade at it. Oh, and here." He pulled a case from his coat and handed it over. "Spare gunblade, your old model. No idea where the new one'd be."

"Like I care." Squall spared a moment of gratitude for the fact that he had bought a new gunblade before going on the damned assignment. He pulled his Revolver out of its case and swung it - checked the chamber to find himself fully armed. "Great." One more curve, one more stair. "Cover me."

The run blurred after that - Irvine had dragged half the prison's guards after him, it seemed, and Squall found himself cleaving his way through many as shot after shot rang out. He didn't waste his charges, using them only when he had a clean shot at multiple targets lined up to catch the explosions. Kill. Kill as many as possible, increase the chances for the others to get out. It blurred, the spray of blood and the snap of bone and the screams under never ending gunfire. The girls had to have picked up more guns by now.

When he saw the light of day through windows he turned back, carving his way backward until they were all together. Rinoa was clearly exhausted; he had Selphie take Zell back and hand Rinoa her gun, hoping she remembered how to use it. Everyone. Everyone out. He'd have to hope, and that was bitter. "Quistis - summon."

Daylight, but not safety. Rinoa summoned Carbuncle for shielding as Irvine shot rapidfire at guards on the walls. Squall reached out for Quezacotl and felt the storm rip through him as a blast of freezing air came from Quistis; freeze the gates, then smash them.

And free. It was all Squall could do not to fall over just on the other side - pointless, stupid. Everyone out - out - get under cover, Irvine's got a car -

Later, Squall could not believe it had actually worked. A string, a long string, of doing the only thing to be done at the time - and they were out. Alive, free, with Irvine at the wheel and pedal to the metal, screaming across the desert.

Now was the time. Numb, exhausted, Squall motioned Quistis to his side and began setting bones.

"What happened?" Quistis asked - just as numb, just as tired, carefully setting Zell's fingers and casting spells to knit them back together.

Squall opened his mouth. Closed it again. Felt shoulders tightening against rage and guilt and nameless, familiar things. "Seifer," he gritted, and bit back bile as Zell twitched at the name, only semi-aware of his surroundings. Squall bent over his hand, set and healed another finger. Healing Zell alone would wipe them out of magic, but everyone else could walk, at least.

"We've got to take him back to Garden," Quistis said. "This is - it's too much."

"No time," said Squall. "Seifer's gotten talkative. We've got to keep the Gardens from getting leveled first."

Selphie, adrenaline-drunk and exhausted, started giggling. "Seifer...talkative..."

"He's still not - a hotel room, then," said Quistis. "Something."

Set. Cast. Set. Cast. Squall spared a spell for the face, bruised and split and bleeding and puffy. "Ask him."

"You've got to be joking," said Quistis, aghast. "He can't move!"

"Working on it," said Squall flatly.

"...Squall..." parched, gasped, it silenced everyone.

"Stay still," Squall replied. "The damage -"

"...True?" Just-healed fingers grasped at thin prison cloth.

Squall felt like he'd been turned to stone. True? Seifer had said many things, some of them true, some not. But that wasn't the reason Squall chose to answer with "You know us, Zell." He nodded sharply at Quistis- keep healing - and, reluctantly, she obeyed. She might disagree with him, but she was too well trained not to obey an order.

You know us. He didn't, really. Zell had no idea how true some of the accusations had been, how close Squall had come, under the fog of the anti-magic field, to crying out but not like that. He was glad he hadn't. It was a desire - to hold, protect, love - but it was an old, familiar desire and containable. Squall's hands touched only to set bone, cast spells. Showed nothing of ever having wanted anything else. Nothing else. Seifer had been talkative, but the price of information had been very high indeed.

Take a good look, Squall. Isn't love grand?

Not love. Not. Squall locked it away. Swallowed it down, locked it away. Felt, carefully, for the broken bones, trying not to jar as the jeep raced down the rough desert flats. Set, and heal. Set, and heal.

"Squall....he's mine."

"Yes."

Love was giving what the loved one wanted to receive. Squall held on to that, and set another bone.


	3. Dreams and Promises

There was little sleep to be had. Squall had long since inured himself to the reality that it would be months, perhaps years, before he would sleep without nightmares. Though he understood that eventually he would be able to sleep through the nocturnal replays of recollection, that time was not now. 

Not even close, really. Not even _close_. 

He did, as was his duty as Commander, do his part to create the illusion that all was well. He retired to his quarters as if to sleep, dozed as much as exhaustion could drive him to, and at least stayed in his room until after midnight. But in the dark hours, when the active complement of the Garden was reduced to watchmen and navigators, he abandoned the pretense of rest and walked the silent halls, too aware of the lives in his hands and too aware of the inherent failure of his wakefulness. 

Squall went first to the outer balconies. The Garden, flying over ocean under a clear night sky, provided as restful a vista as could be imagined. But the stars harbored murderers and the moon was darkening, the pale pink of it deepening in recent weeks, light shining on the ocean's bloodstained glass - 

It was becoming habit to shy away from reminders. He turned from the night air and headed for the Infirmary. He could not continue with his mind in pieces and sleep snatched an hour here, a few minutes there. There were drugs that could handle any illness; he would find something there to cure his wakefulness. The halls were dark, camera monitored by watchmen in offices who had the sense not to spread rumors, and the Infirmary was full of the heavy silence of many sleepers. Too many wounded from the last battle and there would be more, until the possessed Galbadia Garden was thrown down. Their wounds clawed at him, forced him to question every command decision, re-examine, determine if he had used their talents and skills wisely or foolishly. 

"Squall." The whisper, dry and hoarse, carried in the silence. He detoured from his intended route into the pharmacy. Few called him by name anymore. 

Zell was also wakeful. Small surprise there. Squall averted his eyes from Zell's hands; the setting of them had jarred on the trip back and they'd rebroken more than once before anyone else had noticed. He was under orders to remain in the Infirmary, under observation until the damage had been healed. Squall kept his voice low, but did not whisper. "Yes?" 

It should not be possible to see color so clearly in such dim light as was left to allow staff to navigate the various beds in the night, but Zell's eyes were very, very blue. Wrapping himself in Shiva again, Squall knew. Not that it did him half the good it should have. "Not you, too?" The three words carried with it an abandonment of hope, and behind the polite mask of his expression Squall kicked himself for thinking Zell might _sleep_. If anything his nightmares had to be worse than Squall's own. 

There was little point in lying. Squall nodded. "I came for something to make me sleep." 

Zell's laugh was short and bitter. "If you find anything strong enough, give me some too, wouldja? The painkillers make it hard to think." 

Squall regarded the setting of Zell's hands. "How long?" he asked. 

"Two, three weeks, Kadowaki said," was the reluctant admission. "Squall....I'm gonna go nuts in here." 

_A little late for that,_ was Squall's private assessment. He admitted what Zell refused to; who they had been had died. Who they would become was the only issue still up for debate. "We go as soon as Galbadia's gutted," he said. "If he's not there, in command." Which was Squall's personal assessment. Edea could not possibly have had such a grasp of tactics as had been seen in the last battle. Seifer had to be there, in the other Garden, at the helm. 

Zell's jaw dropped. "Wait," he whispered. "Wait for me, damnit, you _owe_ me this -" 

Squall sat on the edge of the bed, shaking his head 'no'. "There's no time," he said, indicating the too-full Infirmary. "I've got to get him out of that damn hulk if we're to have any chance at all. Get him out of his shell and hunt him down or we. Are. Dead. I can't wait a few weeks for you." 

The words were simple statements of the obvious. There should not have been any reaction but - perhaps reluctant - agreement. But Zell seemed to fall in on himself at the sound of them, as if they shattered some illusion he'd been using to make himself fight. He didn't sob. But he didn't sob, Squall could see, because he was forcing himself to control his breathing. The tears he had less control over, and they spilled freely and unheeded onto the sheets. "I have to go," he whispered - not to Squall, or as far as Squall could tell to anyone in particular. Just to hear the sound of the words. "I can't....sleep, I can't _fight_...why the hell did you get me out of there if I'm no damn use to you?" 

_Because I love you._ The words would never be said, now. The nightmares neither of them could sleep through had twisted every permutation of the words into mocking knives aimed right for the heart. Seifer's last - _Hyne, let it be the last _- victory. "To give you your chance," he said instead. "If he's still alive when you're healed, you'll come and have your crack at him. If I get to him first I'll hand you proof I took care of it. Either way, he's not the real enemy. He's her puppet. I won't face her without you." 

He knew the words were neither a light nor an easy promise. Seifer had beaten him in every fight up to now. But something had changed in Squall, chained to the electric rack of the prison, something had changed during the forever of torture and confinement. The rules had changed. He had _learned_ - and the game was new. He would never allow that to happen again. Whatever the cost, that would _never_ happen again. Squall pulled one hand free of the gloves that almost never came off now, unbearable as human contact had become, and put his palm against Zell's tear-wet cheek. Acknowledgement. Acceptance. And watched the blue eyes close. 

Promise. Zell had no need to ask; Squall had no need to confirm. And if it felt to Squall like the turning of a particularly twisted knife in the heart - that he could touch no other, and Zell could be touched _by_ no other, and yet never have it be more than this - he gave no outward sign. Personal feelings were allowed only so much leeway. Broken as Zell was, he was the best at what he did. His hands would heal, and then there would be reckoning. For now, the tears slowed but did not stop, dripping over Squall's fingers as Zell lay back onto the Infirmary bed. Bandaged and set hands could not hold in return, but Zell turned his head toward Squall's hand. 

And Squall waited. Until tears dried and breathing slowed to something steady and even, and then he carefully removed his hand and stood up. Somewhere far inside, someone was shaking at the wetness in his bare hand. Someone was screaming - rage, pain, it probably didn't matter. Terror, possibly. He knew himself changed from who or what he had once been. The prison hours were stark and vivid in every horrific detail, and had become some kind of internal divider between 'then' and 'now'. He wondered if who he had been 'then' would have cried, as Zell cried. He wondered if it mattered. 

He slipped the glove back on and checked through the pharmacy stores for tranquilizers. He'd try different ones until he found something that worked, if need be. Pills palmed in gloved hands, he checked on Zell before leaving. Sleeping, deep enough not to wake at approach. Either that or Zell was faking sleep and not in a mood to say more. Which was also fine. Squall returned to his own room and tested the pills he'd retrieved. 

He woke, groggy and bleary, at roughly four the following afternoon. Somewhat to his surprise, Irvine and Quistis had run interference for him, fielding problems until he emerged. This was a pleasant shock until he found out _why_. 

Zell had slipped overnight into catatonia, cause unknown but Squall could guess. 

Somewhere beyond hearing, someone was laughing. Somewhere else, the screams were of rage. 

There was a war to fight, and win. Squall sighed, accepted the report, and got on with it. 


	4. On the Ragnarok

She came round, conveniently, right about the time he found the gravity generator and turned it on. It didn't surprise him; Rinoa was a master par excellence at the opportune fainting spell. He considered it a less-than-intelligent maneuver at the best of times; _now_ it was annoying enough to set his teeth on edge. 

"Where am I?" she asked, putting her hand to her suit helmet as if she had no idea why she had it on. Which, he reflected, might actually be honest. 

"Short answer or full answer?" he asked brusquely, punching the buttons that declared themselves involved with the ship's internal air supply. _Probably shut the oxygen off for a reason,_ he thought with a frown. _Quick death for them, or for something else?_ Both options warned of trouble; this ship, whether he liked it or not, was their only possible way to get back to the planet in one piece, now that a Lunar Cry had destroyed the space station. If the first option, the ship was likely nonfunctional, unsafe to take back into the atmosphere. If the latter... 

"Um." Decisive as ever, he noted absently, scanning the room for signs of attack - past or present. "...Full, I think." Realizing he was not going to be gallant and help her to her feet, Rinoa made a wounded little noise and stood up. 

"You launched yourself into space from the station in Esthar," said Squall, loading his gunblade. "You were definitely not yourself. By the time I managed to catch up with you, you'd already done _something_ to the stasis locks around Adel and the space station had to be evacuated. Then you went on a suicide walk into space, and believe me I was damn tempted to leave you to it. I went after you anyway, which was probably a good thing because we just missed a Lunar Cry that _shredded_ that space station. I saw a ship in stationary orbit and used what was left in the suits' jets to get us to it. You're on it. If this thing's a dead hulk, so are we." 

Rinoa actually managed to look meek. "Um. Thank you?" 

Squall gave her a very level look. "The only reason I saved you is there's got to be a reason you were controlled and then sent to suicide instead of being let go. Whoever's playing these games - why _you_? And why the hell bother to kill you?" 

The questions were not rhetorical, and Rinoa knew it. The way Squall threw them at her, it was quite clear he expected her to have a solid answer for them. She wished she didn't. 

"I'm...a sorceress," she admitted, staring at her hands. "Since we beat Edea." 

Squall just stared at her for a little while, quite still before blurring into motion again. "Good," he said bluntly. "That's probably worth risking my neck over. This ship may have monsters on it. Zap them if you can, because if I've got to fight everything on my own _and_ defend you, only one of us is getting back home at best." He was in no mood to give her a shoulder to cry on. The oxygen had been switched off deliberately, the gravity the same. To kill monsters? Had it worked? He couldn't imagine it would - anything that could've gotten onto the ship would have come through vacuum in the first place. Gunblade loaded and ready, he opened the door. 

"You're not upset?" She sounded pleased about that. He could practically hear her thinking up angst. 

"Right now?" he asked, poking his head out of the doorway and peering down the dark corridors. The ship did not smell dead. It smelled like a den. "No. Whoever's behind this controls Sorceresses like you'd control a marionette. I'm stuck in _outer space_ on a ship that may or may not fly, and may or may not be full of monsters. If you're a Sorceress I might just make it back down to solid ground, and you're not going to go wandering off _shopping_ if people are likely to shoot you on sight, which means it's _just_ possible we might actually get some work done afterward. Nope. Not the least bit upset. Now get your ass in gear and be ready to blast anything moving besides me." 

"You jerk," Rinoa sniffed. "This is a big deal, you know! I'm a sorceress!" 

"And because of that you just got shot into space," Squall pointed out quietly, "and when we get home, the tickertape's going to look a lot like a straitjacket. Shut up. I'm trying to listen." 

"Hmph!" she sniffed, but she did obey. Not, he noted, by the simple means of walking quietly. She was already playing with her powers, now that she knew he knew, and was floating steadily along a few inches above the floor. _Whatever,_ he thought to himself. _As long as she's quiet._

...Was that a scrabbling of claws?... 

Rinoa did have reasonable fighting instincts, owing to exhaustive training by the entire team whenever they'd had a few moments, and with the added power of a Sorceress she proved a capable partner. Still, it was several hours of hard fighting to get to the control room, and several more after Squall figured out how to keep the monsters dead that the ship was cleared. Exhausted - but clean, owing to Rinoa's somewhat creative use of water spells - they slumped in chairs in the command room and tried to remember how to breathe. 

"I didn't know you could launch grenades," Rinoa mentioned. 

"Newer model," Squall replied, sprawled on a bench. "Split blade to make room for a bigger charge...those spells are handy." 

"Here, I'll restock you." She moved over to sit next to him, touched his glove. "If you'll take that off." 

Squall shot her a tired, annoyed look - knowing very well why she'd offered, but in serious need of the spells - before complying. Rinoa was quite happy to make holding hands a caress, and power flowed through him - carrying with it the rush of energy and sensation. Irvine had made no secret of the fact that the rush of a full set of spells had its own allure, and quite a strong one. 

So he took a personal, perverse joy in keeping his expression totally neutral, bottling the energy for when he'd need it. When she bent over, as if to give him a kiss, he easily slid out of the way and sat up. "Thanks," he said. "I'll work on getting us down, now." 

"Squall!" she all but squawked, put out. "It's just you and me, now, on the ship. I'm sure of that. And it'll be a long trip down -" 

"Only if it's done right," Squall interrupted. 

"And don't you have a romantic bone in your body?" 

"Since you ask, no." He moved over to the console, and carefully tried to work out which controls would turn the radio on. With the space station gone - not that radio technology had been used in forever, of course, but it was a _chance_... 

Rinoa flumped down noisily in a chair. "Don't you like me?" she asked plaintively. "I'm going to need to choose a Knight..." 

Squall decided to squash _that_ little notion in the bud. "Well, if you leave me alone to get this thing working, if it can be made to work, you'll have a planet full of men to choose from." 

"_Squall_," Rinoa insisted, getting annoyed. "I want _you_." 

He glared at her. "I am a SeeD," he snapped. "My job is not to be your babysitter. My job is to cut your head off if said head goes round the twist. It's a conflict of interest I am not going to take on." 

"Well, maybe Zell will be my Knight, then," Rinoa shot back, and Squall stiffened momentarily but said nothing. For all intents and purposes, he was completely and utterly absorbed in getting the console to work, running his fingers over the dials and switches. The silence was thunderous, ionized, and eventually even Rinoa got the hint. 

"I'm sorry," she offered. "I know you -" 

"I don't get involved," said Squall, slotting each word into place like bricks in a wall. "Proposition whoever you want, but if you upset my team it stops." He tested a switch, and the radio crackled to life. 

_"Ragnarok, this is Esthar Station. Ragnarok, this is Esthar Station. Come in."_ The crisp Esthari words were loud and clear, and Squall nearly heaved a sigh of pure relief. Though how they'd known... 

He tested switches until he found the send. "This is Ragnarok," he said, fervently adding _I hope to Hyne that's what this heap is called._ "How'd you know anyone was left?" 

_"A distress signal was activated with the power-up,"_ said the voice over the radio. _"The President said you'd been in space during the Cry; we've been checking the frequencies of every junk heap up there since then."_

Squall blinked. Evidently he owed Laguna a get-out-of-a-punch-in-the-teeth-free card. He'd think about it later. "I hope someone down there can tell me how to fly this thing," he said, "Because this tech is severely out of date." 

_"That's what we're here for,"_ said the voice. _"Just follow instructions and we'll see that heap flying right and down to earth in no time."_


	5. Blitz

"Hyne, he's a _big_ one," remarked Irvine, peering carefully over the top of a boulder. "That fucker could _bowl_ with this rock." 

"Not a problem," said Squall, shaking his head. His eyes held the green tinge that meant he was using assessment spells while studying it. "Just don't throw lightning at it." 

Rinoa was blinking up at the white-skinned, leathery giants. Four, five of them in a group. Any one of them would be trouble. "Then what?" 

"Anything else," said Squall. "Just not lightning. They've adapted to being the local lightning rods. Once we're past, it's a clear run to the tower." He hefted his heavy blade thoughtfully. "Irvine - head shots, keep it high. Quistis, Selphie, trip them up and try not to get trampled. Rin, stay back here and slow them down. Zell and I will go for the knees and try to bring them down where we can finish them off." 

"Dark shot," said Irvine, looking at them. "Easier to bring 'em down if they don't know which way is up." 

"Don't waste your time," said Squall. "Or the ammo. The Force holed up in the tower's managed to stay that way for years, with everyone knowing it's there. We'll need the better shot more once we're inside." 

"_Jawohl,_" shrugged Irvine, but his tone implied he'd rather have done things his own way. "Rin, how's your aim these days?" 

"Pretty good," Rinoa grinned. "You spending hours having me zap pebbles has to be good for _something..._" 

Squall looked to Zell, as Selphie and Quistis tested their weapons. He shrugged and nodded. _No problem._

One by one, the others said "ready", and then Squall gave the signal to attack. 

It was all so much _easier_ when they were actually fighting. All the minor bickering disappeared and they flowed right into being a single force. Six fighters into three pairs - Irvine and Rinoa at a distance with bullets and spells, Quistis and Selpie with whip and nunchaku tangling and bludgeoning. 

They'd fought together so long it went beyond habit and into intuition - Squall _knew_ when he swung that Zell would not be in the path of the stroke. _Knew_ what it meant when his friend pointed; it meant _throw me_ - which wasn't quite literal, but it tended to look that way. Crouch and quick running step, launching from his back and Zell could aim himself right at his chosen target, wrap and cling and pulverize until the giant stumbled in pain for Squall to behead as it fell. Zell knew, too, what Squall was doing when he ran around one, slicing across the tendonds, jump and punch into bone to snap a descending neck or spine. Music, of a kind, rhythm and flow. 

"Everybody alive over there?" called Irvine, and one by one the four close combatants called back. 

"Didn't waste any shot?" asked Squall. 

Irvine shook his head. "Orders are orders. Anything useful on these...things?" 

"See for yourself," shrugged Squall. "Maybe." 

Quistis was testing her whip, clucking her tongue. "I need to rework this section," she said. "I'll see if they have any metal on them." 

"That was fun," remarked Zell. A flicker of a rather fierce smile flashed. "The bigger they are..." 

Squall was thinking, _when his hands are higher than your head, your head is level with his groin._ He knew better than to say it, though, only shook his head, amused. They'd always had the most fun taking down giant anything. 

"You are _covered_ in blood," chided Rinoa, and promptly threw a water spell at Zell that splashed into the dry earth all around. He came out of it spluttering furiously, his long bangs plastered down his nose. 

"You...._witch_!" he griped, though not angrily, and hopped to dripping feet. "Give me a bath, will you? Say hello to a mudfight!" and promptly flung some in her direction, which made her laugh and duck. 

"Squall," said Quistis, as Zell promptly engaged Rinoa in a game of tag. 

He turned to her, knowing what was coming, and so said nothing as her fingers tested and rebraided sections of her whip. 

"He can't stay," she said quietly, nodding minutely at Zell. "He was fine today, but..." 

"Quistis, he stays," Squall said firmly, and shrugged. "Maybe Rinoa will be good for him." 

Her expression clearly said what she thought of that. "Rinoa can't make up her mind and it'll crack both of them," Quistis predicted. "This is personal for him." And personal, in Quistis' lexicon, was a terrible thing. 

Honestly, part of him agreed with her. The good days were getting fewer and farther between. Rinoa was laughing and squeaking and tossing the magical equivalent of water balloons as much because Zell was taking it in good humor as anything else. It wouldn't have been unlikely for him to throw a fit about it. Still... "He fights as well or better than anyone else we could have along." 

"Because you're covering for him." 

"No." That, Squall could definitely answer. "If I had to cover for him, I'd tell him to stay behind. As I've done before." 

"He needs time off," Quistis repeated. "Forced time off...to deal." 

"No." Again, Squall was sure, and now grim. "Quistis...he _had_ weeks off. In Garden, when we got it moving." That was not so long ago. Insomnia had been the least of Zell's problems. Claustrophobia, doors slamming, darkness - half the things in Garden had been making him twitch and jump, to the verge of breakdown until Squall practically carried him down to Kadowaki and ordered her to do _something_. He'd learned a lot after she'd sedated Zell into uneasy sleep, and he was sure of his choices. "He needs to face this down, Quistis. It might kill him, yes. If he doesn't face it down he might as well look into a new line of work." He nodded in Zell and Rinoa's direction. "You want to be the one to tell him that? He was given the choice to stay behind and he refused." 

"It's _your_ job to keep _everyone_ alive," Quistis snapped. "Not mine. If his - _therapy_ - endangers us -" 

"It won't." Flat, sure. "I know him - even wild, I know him. You _will_ get out of this alive, if I've got to _drag_ you." 

Quistis studied him a while longer, assessing, then bent her head to her whip repair. "You've got plans in mind." 

"Yes." Squall sighed, sat down on a stone, started checking his gunblade for nicks. "If it comes down to it, I'll let him die. Or kill him myself. If it doesn't come down to that, I expect you to follow orders." 

"Cold of you." From the tone, it was hard to tell if the observation was compliment or insult. 

"My job." 


	6. Hands in the Dark

The silence wasn't normal quiet, but the soundless noise of Time Compression. It ate conversation, swallowed the whisper of cloth and the clink of chain, leaving them to wonder if they were all going deaf. They couldn't count on sound to alert them to danger any longer, and had begun to use touches - very light brushes against arms or hands - to gain a companion's attention. The only guarantee beyond that was to shout, and they didn't need the horrors of the Castle hunting them down as well. 

Squall found his hearing sharpened - noises that would have gone unheeded normally now invariably caught his attention. The faintest chatter of rock falling on rock, a slither of pebbles on stone, echoed to Squall's Compression-deafened ears. He turned his head from the faintly lit gloom of the corridor to the dark corner they'd chosen for a camp. He bit back a little sigh when he saw Zell coming from the shadows. "You need rest. Sleep." 

"Can't." It was impossible to say where the dullness came from; from depression, from exhaustion, from the sound-devouring silence... 

Squall just waited. Time Compression or not, Zell was terrible with silence. He returned his attention to his watch-post, keeping an eye out for enemies. 

"I'm running out," Zell blurted all at once, agitated. "This place, it's.." 

"Hard on everyone," Squall interrupted flatly. "It's doing this to all of us. There's no choice left." 

"I _know_," Zell replied, if anything edgier than before. He looked away, the admission grudging and hated. "I'm just...I'm losing it, Squall." 

The loathing could not even be swallowed by Ultimecia's sorcery, and Squall didn't have it in him to deny it. He waved Zell to a seat on a shattered statue a few feet away; there were many such. Whether Ultimecia had once had an appreciation for art that had been lost with her sanity, or had always hated it and let her creatures deliberately destroy it, he neither knew nor cared, any more. "What do you need?" 

The question was an invitation as well as a request for information, and Zell knew enough to take it that way, but he continued to hesitate. "I shouldn't have come," he said quietly, so that if Squall hadn't been listening the words would have been eaten by the silence. "I should've...known." 

Squall had no patience for drama, or foreshadowing, or whatever Zell though he was doing. "_Zell_," he insisted. "Tell me." 

"It's fucking...with my memory." Zell had his back firmly against the wall now, his fists clenched. "T-time. When is _now_, Squall? When's now? What's happening now?" 

_Shit_. It was the only word that would do. Squall's eyes widened slightly as he saw what Zell was both aiming at - and avoiding. "Now you are here," he insisted. "Now is this castle." 

One fist was steadily punching the wall. "Are you _sure_?" he asked, strained. "It's all - it's all one time now, isn't it? S'what they said it was going to be....all times to one time, forever..." 

"Look at your hands," Squall ordered. "Look. Are they broken? Are they bare?" He reached over and caught the swinging fist, pulling the fingers out of their curl as no one else dared to do any more. "Your eyes tell you. Now is not _then_. It can't be." 

Zell jerked his hand away, fingers flexing unconsciously, unheeded, and his other hand rubbed at where Squall's grip had been. "I know...and I don't. I'm losing it." 

Squall couldn't argue with that, but neither could he afford it. The time was gone, now, too late to go back. And if he really did lose it, in this place, it'd blow the whole team apart. They'd had no more adequate a briefing for this mission than they had for the initial assassination attempt on Edea. He _could not_ risk failure a second time. This _now_ was too unbearable to let continue. He knew exactly what Zell was talking about. Memory, in this place, was unreliable - not because it was too absent, but because it was too immediate. Events of months ago felt blood-fresh in the mind, if you only let yourself think about it... 

"Focus on this now," Squall said, his tongue almost tripping. He'd wanted to say _focus on me_, but that wouldn't help. Might make it worse, even. He held out his hand. "Lie down, and hold my hand. Try to sleep." 

It was, at best, a temporary solution. Zell didn't control his mind any longer. He was flinching, twitching as he obeyed, lying down near enough to Squall to be almost touching, and raised a hand that trembled only slightly. Squall took it, squeezed firmly but not to cause pain. "Focus on this," he said. "This is now. It wasn't then. Can you?" 

Fingers tightened around Squall's, loosened. "Y-yeah..." he said, and both of them knew it was at best a half truth, but there was nothing else. 

"Then sleep." 

Zell's breathing was lost in the oppressive silence and Squall could not use it to judge the state of his alertness, but Zell closed his eyes and lay still. Squall returned his attention to the distant lights in the corridors, and knew sleep wasn't sound by the occasional squeezing of his fingers. 


	7. Omega

A blast of fire roared scant inches over their heads. 

"Are we....alive...?" panted Irvine, lying flat on his back behind a toppled statue. 

"Seem to...be," Squall returned, sitting with his back against one of the statues that the creature's tail hadn't knocked over, breathing hard. 

"Lucky...us..." 

The six said nothing else until they could do so without losing their breath or requiring water. Rinoa, cautiously, poked her head over the top of the fallen statue 'shield'. "It doesn't look like we even _scratched_ it," she said, almost in a whine. 

Irvine's hand clenched around the butt of his rifle, but he said nothing. He'd made it clear to Squall what he thought of Rinoa in recent weeks, and been ordered to keep his mouth shut. 

"I lost it," groaned Zell, who was curled with his forehead on his knees a few feet away. The admission was as close as he came to an apology, lately. 

"We're alive," Squall replied quietly, which translated as _apology accepted._ Though he knew it had been close, this time. And Irvine's grip tightened on his gun. 

"This....has got to stop," he gritted. "We can't _win_ like this." 

Squall gave him the cold stare he reserved particularly for this variety of outburst. "And what, exactly, would you like us to do about it now?" he asked coldly. "The only way out is through." 

A low, feral growl came from Zell, and Squall bit back a sigh. He knew better than to speak in absolutes around Zell, but damnit....they were all so _tired_... 

"Agreed," said Quistis shortly. "But we need better than we have, against _that._ And there's no telling how much stronger than _that_ She will be." 

_That_ was a large, black, armored monstrosity of a beast, currently sitting between them and the only viable exit. Though Squall considered that, properly enraged, the creature might at least drop the whole damn castle on Ultimecia's head. It was something to consider as a last resort; the castle would also drop on _them_, after all. Wearily levering himself upward a bit, Squall had to agree with Rinoa's assessment. They'd barely scratched it - and now it was angry and watching for them. 

"Sorry," said Selphie. "I just thought -" 

"I know," said Squall, before she could go into details. Selphie was too curious sometimes - and while her theory that there might be a secret passage to their goal had been interesting, even possible, having _that_ dropped on them instead indicated otherwise. "She's playing games with us." 

"_Lovely_," growled Irvine. "So, aside from being stuck in a nowhere world, we now have a homicidal bitch tossing freaks of space at us for laughs." 

Games. Something about games. Squall was too damn tired to think. Games... 

He missed the growling getting louder - from Zell. "So...this thing is between us and Her?" 

"That thing is between us and _everywhere_," said Rinoa. 

Squall reacted automatically - throwing out his hand to cast sleep before Zell could get to his feet. "Don't do that," he warned Rinoa. "Telling him there's only one way out makes it worse." 

"Well it damn sure doesn't make _me_ a happy camper either," snapped Irvine, as Squall dragged Zell between a fallen statue and a wall to sleep. "You gonna cast spells on me, too?" 

"Don't know," Squall shot back. "You planning on flying off the handle and trying to blow it away on your own?" Wearily, he sat down, tilting himself so that he could just barely see past the shelter of the fallen masonry. "It's summoned...we've got to deal with it." 

"How?" asked Quistis. "Magic barely touched it." 

"Weapons did," Squall noted. "Just not well. If we focus on one plate...could maybe break it and get at whatever's underneath." He looked his teammates over. "After we sleep. Rinoa...first watch. Irvine, second. Quistis third, then Selphie, and Zell might be awake for fifth, if not then I'll take it. Go back where I put Zell - it's as safe as we're going to get in here." He paused. "Rinoa...can you restock our spells?" 

She blinked. "Um....maybe? I don't know. I haven't -" 

"Try," said Squall. "We'll need the junctions if nothing else." He looked at set, hard faces. "You can start with me." 

The others, with various mutters and complaints, did as ordered and slipped one by one into the space between a fallen statue and a wall. Rinoa looked sad, watching them. "I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to touch Squall's face. "I didn't mean to -" 

"You never do," Squall cut her off shortly. "But you do anyway. We can't afford him losing it against something that big, Rinoa. I'd rather face Her with six than five, if I can." 

"Draw," said Rinoa. "I'm not sure how to cast...but if you draw I'll learn from that how it feels." 

Silence fell as Squall pulled magic out of Rinoa - he didn't care what, he was low on about everything after days of wandering the huge, and hugely trapped, castle. If 'days' held any meaning under the red sky. Rinoa nodded after a few minutes, and then magic flowed in a wave from her to him. Spells of all kinds, bright and strong, filling the empty places, and in his mind he heard Quezacotl's thunderous laughter. 

"I do care about him, you know," she said softly. "I wouldn't...set him off on purpose..." 

Squall had long since grown familiar with the cloud he kept between himself and the things that mattered. Zell had flinched away from the touch of any man, however casual, but his own. And Rinoa confused him - cozy one day, cold the next. Squall would have encouraged the relationship if it were steady - anything, anything at all to give Zell something solid to cling to - but Rinoa was not it. "This is not the time for dating advice," he said shortly, and she stiffened. 

"I didn't mean -" she sighed. "I would just like a friend. Is that too much to ask?" 

Squall nodded in the direction of the monster. "I'm sure it would love to know you better," he said. "Rinoa, this is a mission. At the moment, a life or death mission. We either get through it, or we die. There's no time for this bullshit." 

Rinoa's jaw set. "I'd say there's no better time," she shot back. "Tomorrow you might be dead. You could try living tonight." 

"I'd rather sleep tonight and live _through_ tomorrow," growled Squall. "This place might kill me. It's damn sure trying. But if it does it's going to have to throw everything it's got at me, because I am not going down for anything less. And I'm not letting it have any of you while I can do anything about it, either." He scrubbed his face. Damn, so tired. "Wake them, one at a time, renew their spells." 

"How will I know when it's Irvine's watch?" she asked. 

"When you can't see straight," said Squall. "There's no time, here. Nothing to measure. But I'm guessing you can stay awake for maybe two more hours." 

"It can't be measured, but you measure it anyway," Rinoa noted. 

"Paradoxes later, Rinoa," Squall sighed, and crawled into the narrow space. The others were already dozing. It was worrying - death was only a few dozen feet away, but no one was at all wakeful. The castle was draining them dry. He laid down and closed his eyes, waiting for his thoughts to stop scurrying and let him rest. 

It was all getting worse. Tensions the group had had since the prison were starting to come to a head - at, of course, the worst possible time. Once they'd committed, none of them could leave save through Ultimecia's death. Zell, near his own goal of getting a degree of vengeance, was growing more prone to wild attacks on his own - losing patience with the long hunt. Irvine seemed to at least have made up his mind which of the girls he wanted to date, which was good at least for Selphie, but Rinoa had not yet taken the hint that none of the guys were available. She called Squall her knight and he hadn't said no, but she didn't seem to realize that affection played no part in the decision - having a second insane sorceress to deal with did. Quistis, he knew, was going to have Words with him about this latest Zell Incident when she could, and that wasn't something he relished either. 

He wondered, in the mind-wandering way of the exhausted, where love went. He'd loved Zell...was very sure about that. But lately...while he did want Zell _alive_, preferably healthy, it was nearly to the point where he flinched at the sound of Zell's name, because it always came down to the same uncontrollable things. In a dull way, he realized that Zell probably _wanted_ to die. Just on his own terms, which apparently involved fighting. Which was unsurprising. The only surprise was that Squall was starting to find it hard to care, particularly. There was only so long he could watch the boulder wavering on the precipice before a part of him just wanted to say "fall, already, and get it over with". If Zell kept on like this he was _going_ to die. It was just a matter of when, and how many went down with him. 

_No. I can't let him. Not here, not now. When she's dead...if there's nothing..._ But "when she's dead" was such a hard thing to envision. Her guardians were everywhere, hugely powerful, and She was nowhere to be found. Part of Squall hoped that, vengeance exacted, Zell could try to come to grips with things. The soldier in him told him that wasn't likely. 

And nowhere a solution. Tomorrow...hah. 'Tomorrow' was meaningless. When they were rested, he'd turn everyone loose on that beast and try and get through. 

That was the only way out - through. 


End file.
